The Boogieman
by Alastor Mad-Eye Moody
Summary: Alastor Moody age 6 had a bogart in his cupboard...but thats the unfortunate thing about his Muggle Grandfather...he doesnt believe in the boogy-man!


**Title:** The Boogie-man  
**Characters:** Alastor Moody,his Grandfather(Kearnin Moody) and Father (Angus Moody)  
**Rating:** PG with slight dark themes  
**Warnings:** Character Death and mentions of Corporal punishment!  
**Summary:**Alastor Moody age 6 had a bogart in his cupboard...but thats the unfortunate thing about his Muggle Grandfather...he doesnt believe in the boogy-man!

_**The Boogie-man**_

There...there was a noise. Coming from the Wardrobe! He was sure of it! This time he was damned sure about it! No matter how much his grandfather insisted that he had been hearing things, he KNEW that there was a noise from the wardrobe! It shook slightly, the air around it intense. He could feel the room grow silent as the wardrobe shook.

He sat back in his bed, the thick musty quilt tucked under his chin, as he pushed himself backwards with his feet, so that he was pressed tightly against the metal wireframe headboard of the old musty bed, making it squeek...the wardrobe starting to rattle loudly at the noise. Alastor held his breath watching it, as if it were a lion about to strike. He moved further back into the headboard trying to get as much distance between himself and the wardrobe as possible, only making the bed squeek loudly and the old springs rattle, the wardrobe Rattled louder in response.

Just as he was making up his mind whether to go and check what was going on, he heard a large growl and a cough, followed by stomping, a door opening and closing and heading toward his own....Granda wouldn't be very happy for being woken, but at least the wardrobe would stop shaking now. The door swung open making him drop his hold on the sheets as an old man walked into the room.

He was gruffer than his father, his hair at odd angles as usual, even during the day. Still Red, but with Silver streaks running through it. Old eyes of bright green, searched the room, to rest on the small mass on the end of the bed, with a sigh. "BOY! What you been doing in here! Its well passed midnight! You should be asleep! Not bouncing off the walls! Or the bed for that matter" He narrowed his eyes as if this is exactly what he thought the boy had been doing.

"...N...No sir. I. It was the wardrobe..." The old man had just had enough of this wardrobe nonsense,and growled stopping the boy in his tracks "Don't give me that Rubbish Alastor Moody! We both know there is nothing in that there wardrobe!" Alastor scowled at these words. "If there is nothing wrong with the wardrobe what's that noise we both heard?" he asked in a quiet and angry whisper. He hated it when people accused him of imagining things, like the time that Peter Rogers had stolen his goons, and it started to jump inside Peters locker until it was let out, and roled over to him. That was apparently a flook, but Alastor was sure it was him!

"Dont you take that tone of voice with me, Alastor!" The old man grumbled, turning on the gas light and walked over to the wardrobe and opened it, finding nothing amiss, aside from a few pairs of old muddy boots had toppled over and a summer shirt had half unfolded. He frowned and stepped back, shutting the wardrobe with a large bang, making Alastor jump in his bed "There's nothing there boy!What are you playing at?" he frowned at Alastor who looked just about ready to scream out his frustrations! He was sure there was something in there. He saw...something Move. But the old man wouldn't listen! He NEVER listened! "I'm a wizard! Maybe only wizards can see it" he said logically, but that was not what the old man wanted to hear.

"One more word from you young and I'll have you bent over my knee!" the old man warned. Stepping closer to loom over Alastor, who knew he wasn't joking. was generally reserved for him when he was in trouble. So he just scowled, and jerked back under the covers turning his back on the old man and the wardrobe. "One more sound out of this room and I swear you wont sit for a week Alastor" threatened the old man, as he turned out the light and closed the door.

Alasor turned to face the wardrobe almost instantly, willing it to really have been his imagination. If there was one thing to be said for his Granda, it was that he was a man of his word, and he wasnt against giving young boys what he felt they needed. Alastor groaned as he heard a small rattle from somewhere deep inside the wardrobe, and sat bolt up as it turned into a screaching noise, he held his breath praying that his granda wouldn't hear that...there was a cough from the other room, but nothing else.

Alastor decided that no matter how bad the thing in his wardrobe was, it couldn't be worse than his granda's rage at being woken up again. So he got up out of the bed, onto his bare feet Wrapping his arms around his vest clad chest to keep out the winter chills and padded across the musty mat onto the dark cold wooden floor, over to the wardrobe.

His heart was pounding as he stood before it, the wardrobe literally jumped into the air and landed with a loud thud! "Alastor Moody if I have to come in there you will regret it!" a voice growled from the depths of the old house that stood on the lonely glen, so many hours from anything... The thatched roof above him smelled of musty hay, the uneven white washed double isolated walls, surrounding him. The wooden floor boards creaking as he moved over them. The cold slate floor on the lower level of the house often seemed to be so dark that they seemed to be a pit on dark starless nights like full moon outside seemed to make the night seem even darker...Though he knew it safer in the darkness of the new moon than the light of that of the full moon he was still grateful for the added light...he thought as he looked at the wardrobe, hand reaching out to take hold of the handle and twisting it.

At first he thought there really was nothing in there...but suddenly there was a low scraping noise, that made him jump back tripping over himself to get away and knocking his chin on the edge of the bed,cutting it deeply and splitting his chin open,in his hurry to get away from the thing in the wardrobe...He looked back to see a man standing over him, a tall man, that he instantly recognised as his grandfather,caring his tawse. "I thought I told you to get to bed or there would be trouble !" said the man before him tapping the tawse in his hand, Not saying a word...Alastor wanted to scream,as he knew that it was impossible for his grandfather to be in two places at once. He found his voice closed, and unable to his lungs feel like they were going to explode.

Alastor finally found his voice as the man stood over him raising the tawse well above his head, and he let out a scream, that would have made any 6 year old proud. His grandfather was their in a flash. Looking around in shock, to find his grandson huddled on the floor, looking like death itself had grabbed him, blood pouring from his chin,a man that was the spitting image of himself standing over the boy,raising an extremely nasty looking tawse to the poor lad. He was glad that he always had a shot gun in reach as he aimed it at the doppleganger and shot just as he was about to beat his boy. It let out another howl and stumbled over to his grandfather who cocked his rival again and emptied it to no avail. But the man did something stange...its image changed into that of a man, apon closer inspection it revealed the man to be non other than his father...exept the shot gun wounds were still there...Alastor and Kearnin Moody watched in horror as Angus Moody Father and son,dropped to the floor gripping his stomache in pain before falling dead.

Alastor who quickly recovered, stood up, that couldn't be so. No way was his father dead! His Da was as strong as a couldn't possibly be killed by a bullet! He felt his heart pounding in his ears, and his head want to explode. The room around him starting to shake around them, as his granda said nothing just staring at the man in front of him, mouth open slightly.

The room shaking suddenly stopped for a moment as Alastor stepped forward glaring at the man that was supposedly his dead father,his grandfather standing dumb founded staring at it tears rolling down his : acutely aware of the pain in his chin. He couldn't help himself, as he let out yet another scream that echoed around the room, startling the dead man. The scream so ear-splitting that his granda had to cover his ears and dropped to his knees,the strange man seeming to disappear out of nowhere and the wardrobe snap windows shattered and the cold winter wind blowing through them. The entire house seeming to shake. The wind outside picking up .

Finally his granda finally woke up to the fact that his grandson was in distress and grabbed him around the waist pulling him into his broad chest and letting him kick and scream the whole house shaking as walls started to fall, and the roof came off,Blood smearing the old mans Pajama's and his young grandson,holding him and sobbing just as non other than Angus Moody both and tugging them out of the house,as it collapsed the wind dying down as Alastor realised that his dad was indeed alive,and threw himself at the man.

Angus caught hold of Alastor holding him close to his chest and stared at his father bewildred, as the house collapsed the weather now fair and the wind completely dead. "What the hell happened here Da?" he asked as he cradled the now exhausted boy in his arms, looking at the deep cut in his chin that was still oozing a large amount of blood. Kearnin explained it to him as Angus placed the half sleeping Alastor on top of his trenchcoat and started treating his as the red haired boy with messy hair and a missing tooth dozed off his eyes closed to slits.

"What are you doing?" asked Kearnin as Angus took out his wand and pointed it at the cut. "Healing the cut before it scars..." he answered quietly "Don't you dare! Leave the cut alone Boy! Dont need magic fir a small cut!" he said harshly. "It is most definitely not a small cut Da! It goes right up his chin and over his lip!" He growled healing the cut to a scab. "Scars build Character! And the boy's staying under my care! I decide what treatment he gets that is enough !" he said making Angus Moody shift at the name hating being called that but the old fart had a point. "Fine! But he can get it fixed with magic later if he wants to!" he growled back at his father, picking Alastor up. "But there is no reason to spite the poor boy because he knows magic Father!" he said. Kearnin's hand clenched and unclenched. "So far Magic has only gotten this family into trouble! Forgive me if I am sceptical! It wrecked my house!" he growled staring at the wreckage.

Angus frowned at the house but inwardly was rather pleased the hovel was gone. Alastor deserved to live in better surrounding than this dirt 'd been trying to get his father to agree to moving many times. We'll move him to the family home near Dublin Da...its far more comfortable for starters...and Alastor might even make some friends"was the frowned "and I'll rebuild this ...house for you...but Alastor will be far better off in Dublin than a drungry old shack in the middle of nowhere!.

The arguments over, Alastor was apparated to the little lighthouse home not far from he was raised. But he would forever remember the sighed of his fathers dead body lying on the floor of his Granda's house,and knowing that nothing is as it seems...His scar a constant reminder of that.


End file.
